Will Carleton Quotes

#1. Over the hill to the poor-house I'm trudgin' my weary way.

Will Carleton

#2. Boys flying kites haul in their white winged birds; You can't do that way when you're flying words. Careful with fire, is good advice we know Careful with words, is ten times doubly so. Thoughts unexpressed may sometimes fall back dead; But God Himself can't kill them when they're said.

Will Carleton

#3. Thanksgiving-day, I fear, If one the solemn truth must touch, Is celebrated, not so much To thank the Lord for blessing o'er, As for the sake of getting more!

Will Carleton

#4. Over all our happy country - over all our Nation spread, Is a band of noble heroes - is our Army of the Dead.

Will Carleton

#5. Not all the labour of the earth Is done by hardened hands.

Will Carleton

#6. We thank Thee, O Father of all, for ... all the soul-help that sad souls understand.

Will Carleton

#7. To appreciate heaven well, it's good for a person to have some fifteen minutes of hell.

Will Carleton

#8. Things at home are crossways, and Betsy and I are out.

Will Carleton

#9. And that was the way The deuce was to pay As it always is, at the close of the day That gave us

Will Carleton

#10. I've watched my duty, straight an' true, an' tried to do it well; Part of the time kept heaven in view, An' part steered clear of hell.

Will Carleton

#11. So I have talked with Betsey and Betsey has talked with me, And we have agreed together that we can't never agree

Will Carleton

#12. But I have learned a thing or two; I know as sure as fate, when we lock up our lives for wealth, the gold key comes too late.

Will Carleton

#13. Worm or beetle - drought or tempest - on a farmer's land may fall, Each is loaded full o' ruin, but a mortgage beats 'em all.

Will Carleton

#14. If there's a heaven upon the earth, a fellow knows it when He's been away from home a week, and then gets back again.

Will Carleton

#15. There's lots of people-this town wouldn't hold them;
Who don't know much excepting what's told them.

Will Carleton

#16. The editor sat in his sanctum, his countenance furrowed with care, His mind at the bottom of business, his feet at the top of a chair, His chair-arm an elbow supporting, his right hand upholding his head, His eyes on his dusty old table, with different documents spread.

Will Carleton